


The Truce

by redjacket



Category: Wonder Woman (2017)
Genre: F/M, Wondertrev Secret Santa 2019
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-07
Updated: 2020-01-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:55:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22164436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redjacket/pseuds/redjacket
Summary: It had been sixty-three days since the guns fell silent and the War to End All Wars came to an end. Sixty-three days since they had found Steve unhurt but unconscious in the middle of a field, surrounded by the scarce remnants of the plane.He had not woken since nor shown any sign he might one day.
Relationships: Diana (Wonder Woman)/Steve Trevor
Comments: 37
Kudos: 64





	1. Chapter 1

Diana did not realize she had fallen asleep until Charlie woke her. It felt like she had only blinked and then his hand was on her shoulder, shaking her gently.

“They’re making a fuss about the late hour again,” Charlie said with a sour look on his face. 

Sameer shifted near the door. Charlie had been barred from visiting at the previous hospital after he screamed at one of the doctors. Diana had not been there at the time; Sameer had intervened to keep Charlie from punching the man.

Not being able to visit for those weeks had driven Charlie crazy. Sameer was holding them together more than anyone but they were still all coming apart at the seams. Etta was splitting herself in two, between the demands of the Secret Intelligence Service office, as busy in the early days of peace as it ever had been during the war, and the long hours of waiting. 

And the season, for them, was only making it harder. 

Diana...Diana did not know what to do. She could not bring herself to move forward and there was no going back. 

She was not used to feeling so helpless. 

“I do not like leaving him alone,” Diana said stubbornly without moving an inch. She did not look at them; she looked at the man in the bed, who had not stirred since they had found him.

She could sense Charlie and Sameer exchanging a look behind her but it was Etta who covered Diana’s hand with her own. She squeezed it and leaned close to murmur: “Chief said he won’t be alone.”

“It’s Christmas Eve,” Charlie muttered mutinously. “We shouldn’t be asked to leave him at all.”

Diana closed her eyes and exhaled. If Charlie was barred from the hospital again it would kill him. She forced herself up and away from the bedside. She wanted to stay. She had wanted to stay for the last two months. 

She took Charlie’s arm instead. 

“We will return tomorrow,” Diana declared. None of them would contradict her, she knew. 

Charlie still looked like he might object but Etta elbowed him in the side and Sameer grabbed him by the arm, pulling him along. Diana was always the last to leave, stooping to brush back limp blond hair and kiss his smooth, still forehead. Even with that farewell, she could never stop herself from looking back when they reached the door. 

It had been sixty-three days since the guns fell silent and the War to End All Wars came to an end. Sixty-three days since they had found Steve unhurt but unconscious in the middle of a field, surrounded by the scarce remnants of the plane. 

He had not woken since nor shown any sign he might one day. 

The doctors murmured to themselves about the Spanish flu and encephalitis lethargica and other ailments but no diagnosis ever bore fruit. Etta and Sameer and Charlie whispered to themselves about Ares and final curses and asked her cautious questions. 

Napi said nothing. 

Steve was, Diana thought, caught in an unnatural rest. She did not think it was the work of Ares but she had no one to ask. She longed for the guidance of her mother or the wisdom of Epione. But she had no answers, no way to defeat whatever was causing of Steve’s silent, prolonged sleep. 

She could only watch by his bedside as his muscles wasted and his face thinned and his hair grew lank. It was if he diminished every day since the battle at the airfield. 

“Blast, it’s a quarter past,” Etta swore, checking her watch. “We’ll have to go to the midnight service.”

“I am not,” Charlie said over enunciating each word, “setting foot in a fucking church.”

“Suit yourself,” Etta said, unfazed, but she looked at Sameer and Diana with expectation in her eyes.

Sameer shook his head. It was not his faith any more than it was Diana’s. “I will walk Diana home.”

Etta was disappointed, Diana could tell, but she only reached out to pat Diana’s arm. “I’ll see you at home then.”

Home, for now, was Etta’s apartment, where they were all camping out, waiting for something to change. Steve’s apartment was bigger, befitting an officer, not a secretary, Etta said. But none of them could bring themselves to stay there. Instead, Charlie, Sameer and Napi took turns sleeping on the couch or the floor. Diana and Etta shared her small bed.

They were no sooner through the door than Charlie was rummaging through Etta’s kitchen, producing a bottle of whisky. He poured Sameer a generous glass and kept the bottle for himself.

“Merry Christmas,” he said, saluting them with it before settling himself in the armchair in the corner and taking a long pull.

“Eh, Charlie,” Sameer said, gingerly putting his glass down and squatting in front of him. “Come now. We mustn’t...”

“You leave me the hell alone tonight,” Charlie said, his voice hoarse. He drew himself up in his seat and gave Sameer a baleful look. “I’ll celebrate this damn night as I please. I’ve no need for a nurse made. You can leave me alone for one damn night.”

Sameer inhaled in sharp surprise as if he had been punched in the gut. Diana could not help but bristle but Sameer only looked at Charlie sadly and acquired. “Okay, mon ami. We will see you in the morning.”

Charlie did not acknowledge him. Sameer looked at Diana and his expression was the only thing that kept her from speaking. Sameer looked...lost. Exhausted.

Diana stepped into Etta’s small kitchen. There had been many heated words passed between them since the Armistice. Words they all quickly came to regret. Tonight, Diana wanted to avoid more harsh words.

Sameer followed her on near silent feet, a spy’s feet, like Steve’s. They looked at each other for a long moment. 

“I can—” Sameer began.

“Sami,” Diana interrupted. “It is all right.” 

Sameer blinked at her. He exhaled: “It isn’t.”

“We can do no more tonight,” Diana told him. It was the truth though every word still felt like it burned her tongue to say it. But Sameer was beginning to look almost as thin as Steve had gone and there were deep bruises under his eyes.

If Sameer was not there to hold them together, Diana feared they would lose Charlie in the bottom of a bottle and Etta to the depths of the SIS office. She was not sure how she would be lost if she did not have them, if she only had Steve’s bedside to hold vigil by and not Steve himself. 

But she feared she would be.

“You need to rest,” Diana said. Again, the words seemed to scald her tongue for all that they were the truth. “We all do.”

Sameer smiled, more tired than bitter. “It is not my holiday, you know.”

Diana shrugged. “I haven’t understood half of what Etta and Charlie have said to each other this past week.”

They smiled at each other for a moment before Sameer’s shoulders slumped. He rubbed his hands over his eyes, then left them there. 

“I am tired,” he admitted. 

Diana crossed the small room and put her arms around him. For just a moment, he rested his forehead against her shoulder and she felt him tremble before he pulled away, wiping harshly at his eyes. 

“I can’t,” he said. He shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. He took a ragged breath. “If I start, I will never be able to pull myself together again.”

Diana folded her hands together. She understood that, however difficult she found it. 

“I will make dinner,” Sameer said, giving her a tremulous smile. “None of us are hungry but we all need to eat.”

There was a clatter from the next room and Sameer’s shoulders tensed again. “Especially Charlie.”

It was a long night. 

Charlie fell asleep propped up in the corner by the fire, before Etta got home from church. It spared them all from another argument and was, Diana knew, an apology of sorts to Sameer, as it had been Charlie’s turn on the couch. 

Sameer had not wanted to fall asleep, Diana knew. He meant to stay up for Etta, meant to ask her how the service was and make jokes about the quality of his cooking. He meant to do all the kind things he had quietly done over the past two months. 

But he had sat down on Etta’s squat couch for a moment after he pulled the empty bottle from Charlie’s limp hands and the blanket of exhaustion cloaking him proved to be too much. He was asleep between one breath and the next. When Diana was sure it would not wake him, she slipped his boots off, found a knit blanket to cover him, and covered Etta’s portion of the meal he had made with another plate in the hopes it would retain a little warmth. 

Etta tiptoed into the apartment at half past one. Her coat and hat were damp. 

“Started raining just as the service let out,” she told Diana. “Could have done with a bit of snow instead! But it is London.”

Diana thought of crisp, cold air and of music. She thought of Steve’s smile and the warmth of his touch. 

It felt chilly in the apartment. And lonely, despite the snores of the men sleeping behind her and Etta’s kind eyes. 

Etta, at least, looked like she had found a little solace. Diana tried to be cheered by that. 

“There’s food,” she said. “Come sit and you can tell me about this service of yours.”

Etta looked surprised but pleased to be asked. “Oh, it was nothing special really. Sermon was a bit too long but I do love the hymns. The Christmas ones are the loveliest.” 

She paused, picking at the food Sameer had left. It had gone cold after all and he had been right, none of them had much appetite. 

“I shouldn’t be so cross with Charlie,” Etta said after a long moment of silence. “He’s hardly the only man who came back with his faith in tatters. And after everything,” Etta glanced at Diana, “It would hardly be possible not to have doubts. But I’ve been to church every Christmas Eve since I was a girl. I can’t imagine not attending. And the hymns, well, it’s the closest I’ll likely get to choirs of angels. Steve went with me last year, you know. He hasn’t been a believer for years and it wasn’t even his church.”

Etta looked down and dabbed at her eyes. Diana reached out and grasped her hand. “I am sure it was lovely.”

“The priest was a bit more fire and brimstone last year. It’s a relief, all the preaching of peace and good will towards men, nowadays. Finally,” Etta shook her head. She summoned up a smile. “That reminds me, I’ve a present for you.”

She squeezed Diana’s hands tightly. “And don’t you dare say I didn’t have to. I have oranges and chocolate for Sameer and Charlie in the morning. There needed to be something. I needed there to be something. And this, this is for you.”

Etta handed Diana a package, wrapped in brown paper and tied with a simple string. Diana swallowed the lump in her throat. It did not matter that this was not her celebration, that she had been too distracted to pay much attention to it at all. This was a kindness and Etta needed to see it given for herself as much as Diana.

“Thank you,” Diana said, carefully unfolding the paper. “I was not—”

She stopped short. Steve’s face, young and whole, not even carrying the burdens he had been shouldering when Diana had met him, stared back at her from a photo. She couldn’t speak, gingerly removing the rest of the paper to reveal him leaning against a plane, looking pleased with himself. 

“I, er, liberated it from his personnel file,” Etta said. “I would have before now but with everything...”

She trailed off and cleared her throat. “It’s from just after he enlisted. Before I knew him. When he was still just one of the flyboys.”

Diana’s eyes stung. She would not give in to tears. She could not. Like Sameer, she did not know if she would be able to dam them up again once they started. 

“Thank you,” Diana repeated. Her mouth felt very dry. 

Etta squeezed her hand again. “I can’t say I understand what’s happened to him but Steve has always found a way back. From every mission. I can’t give up hope that he will this time too.”

“And we will be there when he does,” Diana said. She had not — could not — give up hope either. 

Etta smiled. “I would suggest a nightcap but I imagine my liquor cabinet isn’t what it once was and tomorrow will likely be as long as today was.” 

She got up, her plate still half untouched. She looked at Diana, fond and sad. She knew from many nights experience now that Diana would be up for hours yet. “You’ll rest better in a bed, you know.”

“I will dampen the fire first,” Diana told her. 

Etta sighed but did not argue. Diana heard her getting ready for bed as she dealt with the remaining embers in the fireplace. Then checked on Charlie and Sameer. Then cleared away the plate that had been left at the table. 

Etta was asleep by the time she was done. The apartment had gone very silent and still. 

Diana looked out the little window behind where Sameer slept. There was no snow. No people out on the streets that were darkened and wet from the rain. 

She moved back to the kitchen. The picture lay on the table: Steve in a pilot’s uniform. Steve with a smile on his face. 

Diana had never seen him like that. He had been weighed down by the years of war when they met but still, he had _tried_. He had _fought_. 

That was the unfairness of it. There was nothing to fight. Nothing to do. Just stillness. Silence. 

Diana stood in the middle of Etta’s apartment for a moment. Charlie was snoring. The rain pattered on the windows. In her bedroom, Etta turned over in her sleep. 

It did nothing to pierce the silence Diana did not know how to break.

She left.

—

The room they had Steve in was dark when Diana arrived. It was no trouble to slip inside; the hospital halls were as still as she had ever seen them. 

Steve was unchanged. His eyes were closed, his breathing even. 

But his face had grown thin, thinner, certainly, than the photo or the memory of his face—awake and smiling at her, pleading with her, anguished—and in the dim light, strange shadows were cast on it. He looked hollow, like an unfinished statue. 

It was wrong. It felt wrong. 

Diana wanted to shake him. At times, she had.

He did not wake. If he did not wake soon, Diana feared there would be nothing left of him.

Diana knelt at his beside and took his hand instead.

“Nothing has changed,” Napi said.

Diana looked up from Steve’s face to see shadows fall away from the corner Napi was standing in. They looked at each other.

“If nothing changes, we are going to lose him,” Diana said.

“Yes,” Napi replied.

“Whatever it is that must be altered,” Diana said, speaking not just to him but to whoever was listening, “I will change it.”

Napi was silent for a long time. Finally, he said: “It might not be up to you.”

Diana looked at him. Napi looked back at her. He shrugged. “I cannot find him either. But I think, for Steve, your words are more likely to be heeded than mine.” 

“Only if someone is listening,” Diana said. She held Steve’s hand in both of hers and kissed it. 

“He would not have survived, even like this, if someone had not intervened,” Napi said. 

“Then they should listen to me now,” Diana said, resolutely. “Whatever needs to be changed, I will do it.”

Napi said nothing, though Diana knew he wished to warn her against making such promises and inviting such things. This could not go on much longer. Steve’s body was here, unscathed, save for the drain of time and idleness. That could not go on forever. 

Napi moved to the door. “I will keep watch.”

He left them alone.

Diana touched the hollow of Steve’s cheek. He looked unlike himself and her eyes burned with tears. She kissed his hand again. She kept hold of it.

It would not be the first lonely night she spent at his bedside. In her heart, she did not expect it to be her last.

—

“Not changed,” a voice said, “found.”

—


	2. Chapter 2

Diana woke to a bang. The sound made her heart pound. She knew that sound. She may not have had the long experience of Charlie and Sameer and Steve, she did not fear it as they did, but she would _know_ it for as long as she lived.

That was shellfire. 

But the war was over.

She scrambled to her feet. 

“Diana?” Napi asked, sounding astounded. “What are you doing here?”

Diana stared at him. He had changed back into his smugglers garb. She stared. He had not worn that clothing in weeks, not since coming back from Turkey. 

They were not in the hospital, she realized. They were outside, at one of his stockpiles. 

The air smelled different and in the near distance artillery guns thundered on.

“You are not meant to be here,” Napi said, still looking at her as bewildered as she had ever seen him. “It’s too early.”

“I don’t understand,” Diana said. How did she get here? Where was Steve? What had happened to him? “The war is over.”

“Diana,” Napi said, gently. “It is 1914. The war will go on for years yet.”

“That is not possible,” Diana said, her hand finding the hilt of her sword. This was a trick. Perhaps she had been wrong; perhaps Etta and Sameer’s whispering about Ares had been right. “You would not know me then.”

Napi shook his head. “Time does not exist for me the way it does for you.”

“I don’t understand,” Diana said.

Napi’s eyes were fathomless and Diana knew it was him and not Ares in some disguise that stood in front of her. Napi had always been a different kind of god than either of them.

“To you, time is linear. You have imposed such conditions on it, like the white men do, and so willed it to be,” Napi smiled. It was not a kind smile but one that was amused at the folly of others. “It gets away from them sometimes. It has in recent years, their technology sped it up and left them bewildered. Then the war mired it down again and nearly broke them.”

Suddenly he looked like himself again. “But, for me, it has never been just a line. All things come in cycles. And as I know you in the future, I know you today.”

Diana’s hand left her sword. She trusted him. “But why have you brought me here?”

Napi blinked. “That was not my doing.”

“Who, then?” Diana asked, frustrated. 

“I do not know that either,” Napi said. He looked at her and smiled wryly. “You must not have told me.”

He gazed off into the distance, watching the flash of the shells exploding. Diana wanted to close her eyes against the sight but would not let herself. 

“I can guess why you would be brought here, to this time,” Napi said. His mouth had settled into a grim line when he looked at her again. “But you must not interfere. Can you do that?”

Diana knew there was a challenge in her gaze when she looked at him. “Why not?”

It had been a shock to wake here but Diana was thinking now. In 1914 the war had barely begun. With what she knew, she could find Ares and stop him when it in its infancy. She was no longer so foolish to think that would put an immediate end to the conflict but maybe, without him fuelling it, it would come to an end much more swiftly.

“Because you didn’t,” Napi said simply. 

“I do not understand. I have the chance to change it to now that I am here,” Diana insisted. “If I can kill Ares now, perhaps the war might end sooner! Tens of thousands would be spared! I could stop all this!”

“How?” Napi asked.

“By killing Ares!” Diana said fiercely. “By cutting off his influence early.”

“That would not quell the desires in the Kaiser’s heart,” Napi told her. “Maru is still out there. And Ludendorff. And Haig.”

“They could be contained,” Diana insisted. 

She wanted to push away the image of Steve’s desperate face, begging her to come with him, to stop the bombs, as she stood and refused him on the watchtower. The young German soldiers might have taken off their gas masks in relief after she had destroyed the real Ares but it had still taken the leaders of men weeks of squabbling before the declared an Armistice. And they kept their men fighting all the while. Soldiers had died until the very last minute of the war. 

“And who would rise in their place?” Napi asked. “The British people are already clamouring for a stronger war leader. It would not stop the chaos that has already started as the Ottoman and Austrio-Hungarian Empires splinter.”

“We are still in the early days of the war,” Napi told her. “People yearn for it, from the youngest private to the oldest general. It is still romantic to them. Thousands will die before they know better and those fuelling it will learn last of all. And they would not thank you for stopping them. They would hate you for it.”

Diana stared. The idea of it was sickening. 

“But more than that, I do not think you _can_ interfere,” Napi said and sighed. “Did Steve know you when you first met?”

Diana frowned. “No. What does that matter?”

“Because if you had changed anything, he would have,” Napi told her. “If you left this moment and went to London and destroyed Ares, perhaps the war would end early, before Steve becomes a spy. But then, he would never crash his plane on your island and you would never come to Man’s World, undoing all you tried to do, like a snake biting at his own tail.”

“You cannot be sure of that,” Diana said. She sounded doubtful even to herself.

Napi looked at her sadly. “I cannot be. But _I_ have no knowledge of you altering the future, only what was. You cannot walk the paths I can. You are not meant to be here.”

“Why am I here then? Why bring me here?” Diana demanded. “It makes no sense!”

“The world does not always make sense. You have learned that as well as any other,” Napi said. He looked away, towards where the guns boomed. “And I can only guess why you were brought here. Steve is about to crash in No Man’s Land. I suspect someone wished you to see it.”

Diana’s heart leapt into her throat. She took a step forward. Napi caught her by the shoulder.

“He will survive. And you must let it happen. There are many things dependant on it and —” Napi stopped suddenly, his brow furrowing as if he was remembering something. 

“What? Have I changed it already?” Diana demanded.

“You _cannot_ change it,” Napi said, looking at her. His gaze softened. “There is something else you may be here to see. Steve’s presence may only be by chance.”

“I don’t understand,” Diana said. 

“You will,” Napi said, squeezing her shoulders. He looked at her with a critical eye. “But we must disguise you first.”

—

Diana chafed under the dirt she had wiped on her face and the clothing Napi had produced for her to disguise her as a man. She flat out refused the glasses he pulled from a pocket and offered to her at first.

“It’s a reason for you to not be in service,” Napi insisted. 

“They are a nuisance,” Diana said. “And I broke them quickly the last time someone insisted on disguising me.”

Napi actually smiled at that. “I know. Steve told me.”

Diana frowned. She did not remember Steve mentioning that to anyone. She sighed and put them on. Napi nodded briefly before looking to the sky again. 

“We are late,” he said. “Follow me.”

Diana did, shouldering her pack. They were going to the front. Napi was already known to the Gordon Highlanders, the regiment stationed there. 

“Two smugglers can carry more than one. They will welcome that so close to Christmas,” Napi had said but then his face went grim. “They have already taken heavy losses in this war.” 

The way was different than Diana remembered. Last time, every step taken away from Napi’s camp had led them deeper into horror—the desperate screams of animals and people stayed with her still. That was not to say there were not refugees plodding along the road in the opposite direction, with donkey drawn buggies or carrying neat bundles. There was a stream of them but their desperation was less acute. Diana overheard one man say to his daughter: “It will all be over in a few months, darling. We will get to come home again then,” as she cried into the fur of a patient, orange cat. 

There were still houses standing, though many bore damage, and living trees and grass that horses were grazing on. It was not the muddy wreck and ruin she still saw in her dreams.

Not yet.

“It is early days yet,” Napi murmured. 

“I could stop this,” Diana told him. It was not the first time she had said it. “I could stop it from becoming what it was.”

Napi stopped and turned to face her. They had just passed the British artillery guns. The soldiers there seemed in no rush to blast through the pile of shells stacked nearby but still, they carried on loading, firing, loading, firing, at a steady, deadly pace.

Napi had stopped arguing with her about it in the early hours of the morning. Despite herself, Diana had a deep foreboding that Napi was right, and that anything she did would come to naught. Or worse. She trusted him and he assured her that Steve, at least, would survive the crash Napi portended, that it was crucial that it happened. Though he would not tell her why—an endless frustration—he convinced her that even if she could change the future, the next few days were best left unaltered. 

And Diana knew from her long years of training, it was best to know the terrain when planning a battle. She hadn’t heeded those lessons well as of late. She wanted to know who had brought her here, and why, before she decided what to do next. 

She sighed but nodded at him. They continued to walk. 

“Don’t you wish that you could change things?” Diana asked as they drew closer to the front. 

“Many things,” Napi agreed. 

“Why don’t you?” Diana asked. 

“Time is not linear for me, that does not mean I can repeat it at will,” Napi told her. “I make my choices. I cannot undo them or remake them.”

“But you knew me,” Diana said. “I don’t understand.”

“I do not think I can explain it to you,” Napi said. There was a touch of regret in his voice. “We are alike, you and I, but we are not the same.”

Diana was becoming more and more aware of that. She suspected there were parts of him that she would never know or understand. She had not been wholly prepared for the gods in the world that were not those of her people. Still, she trusted him. And respected him. 

He led her into the trenches. They slipped in quietly, without attracting attention from either side. The trenches were newer and so much less extensive than the labyrinth they had entered their in 1917. They were immediately much closer to the front and should have been fired on entering in daytime.

Diana suspected it was Napi’s doing that they were not seen. 

They were very close to the front line when someone finally looked up and said: “Who’s this then?”

It was not a friendly question and from the look on the face of the soldier who posed it, his next move would have been to reach for his rifle.

Diana was shocked to recognize Charlie. He looked younger, by more than years, but it was undeniably him. 

“Chief!” said a sergeant, three men down the line. He came forward and hugged Napi, slapping him on the back. He grinned at Charlie. “Calm down, Duncan. This is the smuggler I told you about.”

Charlie still looked distrustful. With the sergeant’s hand still on his arm, Napi reached into his pocket and withdrew a bottle of whiskey. Charlie’s eyebrow rose. 

“What’ll that cost me?” he asked.

Napi tilted his head. “What have you got?”

The sergeant snickered. Charlie scowled at him. Diana noticed he was wearing sergeant’s stripes too. 

“Not enough pay on me,” Charlie answered sourly. 

“You’ve finished that novel with the ape man I swapped you for haven’t you?” the sergeant interjected. 

“Aye, so?” 

Napi looked interested. “That and a penny or two would do.”

Charlie blinked and smiled, suddenly won over. “I’ll fetch it. Don’t go swapping with someone else!”

The sergeant slapped Napi on the back again as Charlie hurried away. “Glad you’re back, Chief. We’ve nearly all new boys now, only a few of us old timers left, and they could all use some cheer being so far from home near Christmas. I’ll point you to the ones that need it most.”

Napi gave him a speculative glance. “Just remember I am not your Princess Mary. My ‘tins’ don’t come for free.”

The sergeant laughed, a braying sound but welcome. “The ones with a wee bit of money but not enough to buy themselves a commission are the ones who need it most! Both our purposes will be fairly served, I promise you.”

Napi smiled and inclined his head. He produced two cigarettes from his jacket. The sergeant took them and stuck one behind each ear. They pressed against his helmet. He and Napi shook hands. 

Then his eyes slid to Diana. “And who is this?”

Napi put his hand on Diana’s shoulder. “Thought you boys might need more supplies than I could haul myself. Donald here is a friend of mine. Donald, this is Sergeant John Campbell. John, this is Donald.”

Campbell squinted at Diana’s face. He suddenly looked less welcoming. 

“He doesn’t say much,” Napi offered. He made a vague gesture around his own head. “Not fit for purpose. You know how recruiters can be.”

“I suspect they might have to rethink that,” Campbell said grimly. He shook Diana’s hand, then grasped it with both of his, before saying in a louder voice. “Might want to give it another go when you’re done here.”

Diana gritted her teeth and nodded. When Charlie came back with his book, jostling Campbell out of the way, she cut Napi a look. Napi gave her a look right back. It had worked, after all. 

They made the exchange and Charlie tucked his new bottle of whiskey away in his pocket. Campbell eyed him with envy. “You going to share that?”

“Might save it for a drink later tonight,” Charlie told him with a grin. “It being Christmas Eve and all. We’ll have to keep it out of sight of the boys though.”

“Aye, and Captain Gibson but that’s easy enough,” Campbell said. “Might want to see if—”

The buzz of a plane overheard interrupted him and both men looked up, craning their necks to see if they could spot it. During the long hours of waiting at the hospital, Charlie had once mentioned to Diana that the first time he had seen a plane it had been during the war. 

Napi leaned close to her so only she could hear him whisper: “Steve.”

“Ours or theirs?” Charlie asked. 

“Can’t tell the bloody things apart by sound,” Campbell told him. “Sounds like it’s coming from back of the line though. That’d be ours.”

“Heard they’ve started to drop bombs now,” Charlie said and the nervousness in his voice surprised Diana. 

Campbell scoffed. “You ever seen one up close? They’d have to be chucking them out themselves and I doubt they could carry more than a couple grenades. More’n likely they’re trying to spot Fritz’ guns for us.”

Charlie looked unconvinced but before he could say anything more than was a bang, then another, and finally a sputtering sound. Their first sight of the plane was of it diving steepily with smoke pouring out of the engine. 

Diana’s heart plummeted despite Napi’s promise that Steve would survive. That he had already survived. 

What if her simply being there changed that?

“Fuck,” Campbell said. 

“He’s done for,” Charlie said. “We should check on the boys. Make sure none of them get it in their heads to try for a rescue mission.”

“Come with me,” Napi whispered. 

Diana followed him and if Charlie and Campbell had anything to say about it, it was beyond her hearing. She had met Steve when his plane crashed and she lost him to another. Even when they had found his living body, his spirit had not seemed to dwell there any longer. 

Napi lead her down a short trench that jutted out further than the rest. The soldier she suspected should have been keeping watch was asleep near the entrance and didn’t wake at their quiet approach. Diana frowned at Napi, unsure of why they were there. He pointed at a long, rectangular box that jutted up above the trench. There was an opening to look through at the bottom of it. 

Diana peered into it. A small section of No Man’s Land was reflected back at her. It was greener than she remembered, like the surrounding area. There was barbed wire set up in front of and on top of the German lines, like there was on the British, but the same wreck and ruin was not strewn in between yet. There was still grass there but there were shell holes too and what must have once been a house, though all that was left of it was one low ruin of a wall. 

Somehow, miraculously, the plane glided down into view. It landed heavily, the engine still smoking, at the edge of her view, but it landed all the same.

Steve—and Diana recognized him at once, though he was younger and dressed in clothing she had never seen in person, just in Etta’s photograph—didn’t have a moment to wonder at his luck in successfully landing the plane. Diana saw him scramble out of the cockpit, moments before bullets riddled the side of the plane. They only followed him as far as the nose of the plane. He stayed low and the Germans must have lost him in the debris from his own plane. Diana watched as he crawled as far away as he could before losing all cover, sheltering one of the few deep shell holes. It was the only one where the remains of a wall provided a little extra cover. 

In the next moment, a German shell destroyed the tail of his plane. The still smoking engine belched fire and there were a series of loud pops. The wings caught fire and fell away. Bullets pinged against the stone wall and a few shells landed so close to where Steve was huddled that Diana cracked the knob on the trench periscope. A moment later, the British artillery retaliated and a useless exchange followed, with neither side quite hitting the other’s trenches. 

But with his plane still on fire and half destroyed, the Germans seemed content to leave it alone once the exchange ceased. 

“He’ll make for the line tonight,” Napi said behind her. 

Diana watched Steve for another moment—his chest was heaving as if he had just run miles and he was clearly trying to make as small a target of himself as her could, Diana’s heart _ached_ —before looking at Napi. 

“I could save him right now,” she said, glowering. 

“You could storm No Man’s Land,” Napi agreed. “But you would need to take out the machine gunner or risk Steve getting hit. To do that, you would have to take the German line. An offensive would likely follow, as it did outside of Veld.”

He looked at her gravely. “And then something momentous would not happen here.”

Diana frowned at him. “What is it you keep speaking of?”

To her surprise, Napi smiled, even as he shook his head: “You’ll see.”

\--

By nightfall, the guns were silent and two hours after dusk, Steve slid down the side of the trench into relative safety. 

It was neither graceful nor heroic. It had turned cold earlier in the day and the British soldiers had had to spend nearly twenty minutes directing Steve through their own barbed wire. When he landed in the trench, Steve was shivering uncontrollably and so exhausted he nearly fell over. 

Napi’s hand on her shoulder was the only thing that kept Diana from surging forward to check on him herself. He looked terrible but he was so clearly whole and alive it made her want to cry. 

Campbell came to greet him immediately, slapping him on back so hard Steve stumbled. “All right, lad? That was a lucky escape!”

He thrust a cup of tea into Steve’s hands. Steve drank it all in one go. Then he looked at Campbell and smiled so brightly it hurt Diana to see it.

“First time I’ve crashed and it was because the damn engine failed,” Steve said. “I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“You’re American?” Campbell said. “Hey, Duncan, come over here and pass us some of that whiskey. He’s a damn Yank.”

Charlie didn’t look like he particularly wanted to but he obliged his friend, though Diana noticed the whiskey stayed tucked away. “How the hell did you end up here?” 

“You fellas needed planes. I was ferrying them over from Paris, got talked into joining up,” Steve smiled, rueful but so bright. There was no regret in him yet, Diana thought. It made him look so much younger. “There might have been some liquor involved.”

Campbell laughed heartily. He had produced a blanket from somewhere and wrapped it around Steve’s shoulders. For all his bravado, Steve was weaving where he stood. 

“Isn’t there always just?” Campbell said, gesturing to Charlie. “Don’t be so tight-fisted, Duncan. Come on now, wouldn’t want our guest to think we’re ungentlemanly would we?”

“Aye, and last time you said something like that you ended up drinking half the bottle yourself,” Charlie shot back. “I made the trade and we’ve no idea when Chief will be back, do we?” 

“Your tot this morning wasn’t enough, man?” Campbell said teasingly. Charlie shoved him.

“Chief?” Steve asked, blinking.

“Big fella,” Campbell said, pointing towards where Diana and Napi were sitting, pressed against the wall of the trench as Napi accepted coins in exchange for tobacco, chocolate and booze. “Smuggler.”

Diana felt Steve’s eyes on them. She looked back at him, she couldn’t help it.

But his eyes slid over her and he looked at Napi instead. 

Diana could not tell if she felt disappointed or relieved by that. She wondered if it was truly her disguise, or Napi’s doing, or the doing of whatever—whoever—had brought her here, that Steve did not seem to see her for even a moment.

“I should probably report in,” Steve said, grinning. “But it is Christmas Eve and my wallet seems to have survived the crash with me.”

“Oh ho!” Campbell said, just as Charlie took Steve by the shoulder, shook him and said: “Good man.” 

They dragged him over and deposited him in front of Napi without further prompting. To Diana’s surprise, Napi looked at Steve’s grinning face impassively and let him buy out most of his extra food and liquor, which was quickly shared down the line, without exchanging more than a handful of words with him. 

Diana turned to Napi, confused, as Steve was pulled away, having made himself quick friends with all the men by funding their minor, impromptu festivities. 

“He hardly spoke to you,” Diana said. “He hardly _looked_ at you. You are one of his closest friends!”

“Not yet,” Napi said. He did not seem bothered by it. Once that would have made sense to Diana, he was a smuggler and Steve had just handed him a large amount of money without more than a moment’s haggling. But she had seen how Steve trusted Napi and all of Napi’s kindness towards him. 

It was not right. 

“I am only a smuggler to him, at this moment,” Napi told her as if echoing her thoughts. 

Diana bristled. “How can he think that?” 

“Easily enough,” Napi said. He smiled at her. “This is all still just an adventure to him. It’s not real.”

“How can it not be real?” Diana asked. “He crashed his plane! He almost died.”

“But he didn’t,” Napi said. “He survived. He charmed the locals. It will all make for a very good story when he gets back to base.”

“It is not a story! These men have already been fighting and dying, you said! In three years, this will be nothing but a ruin and a graveyard. How can he think it is just an adventure?” Diana said furiously. She wanted to shout it. 

“This is the first time he has stepped foot on a battlefield,” Napi told her gently. “He spots guns from above and draws trench lines on maps. The air war has only just begun. Death, when it comes in his world, is still just an accident. A terrible accident but that is the life he chose for himself. He joined on a bet, you know. And it was after a few drinks.”

Diana turned away, disgusted. She wanted to scream: “Why am I here?” to the sky. 

She was not sure she would like the answer. 

Napi put his hand on her shoulder. “Since men learned to fly, Steve’s greatest desire has been to be with them in the sky. It is what brought him to Paris. In another life, without the war, it would have been his life’s work.”

Napi’s voice was sad. “It may seem callous to you that he cannot see what the war will become. But it was sold to them, all of them, as an adventure, especially the young pilots. I wish they could keep that with them longer. The war will steal what their lives might have been, all of them, even the ones who survive it. They won’t ever be the same.”

“Don’t judge them too harshly before they learn that lesson. They were not raised as you were. Most will not understand it until it swallows them whole,” Napi said. He squeezed her shoulder. 

Diana exhaled. She rubbed at her eyes, frustrated by the glasses, and tried to take what he said to heart. Perhaps it was not fair to judge this younger self of Steve’s against the man she knew, who was driven by such purpose that it seemed to burn him up inside. 

None of this was fair. 

Napi’s hand on her shoulder tightened again. This time she turned to look at him. She frowned to see him smiling, his gaze at the rim of the trench. His smile only grew when he looked at her. 

“It’s about to start,” he said. 

Diana was sick of not understanding what he was talking about or why she was here. She opened her mouth to say so.

And then, she heard it. 

_“O Tannenbaum, o Tannenbaum, wie treu sind deine Blätter!”_

“What is that?” she asked, instead. There was only one answer, though.

“The Germans,” Napi confirmed. He was still smiling and in that moment, she could not help but smile back. “Come on.”

They walked towards where Steve, Campbell and Charlie had disappeared around a curve in the trench. The soldiers they passed had obviously heard the singing too. They had all fallen quiet. They did not seem to know how to react to it. 

Charlie, Steve and Campbell were with a larger group of men. Despite his flippancy, Steve seemed to have passed out all the chocolate and cigarettes he had purchased from Napi to the other soldiers. They too seemed momentarily stunned into silence. 

“What are they singing?” someone asked, finally.

“O Christmas Tree,” Steve said immediately. A few of the soldiers looked at him surprised. He smiled crookedly. “Picked up some German while I was in Paris.”

There was quiet again as the final verse was swung through on the other side of No Man’s Land. Then someone shouted: “Merry Christmas, Fitz!”

There was a short pause: “Merry Christmas, Tommy!”

The soldier who had shouted it grinned. “Should we sing something back, do you think?” 

Steve had taken a step forward. He took two more as the others debated which song they should sing, if they were going to sing one. Before anyone could stop him, he had climbed up on the parapet and stuck his head out of the trench.

Campbell lurched forward in the next moment to pull him back down. “Don’t be daft man!”

“They’ve put up a Christmas tree,” Steve said, with a laugh. “Candles on it and everything.”

Everyone stared at him for a moment. Then Napi moved from Diana’s side and did the same. Nobody moved to stop him. 

“There are Christmas garlands on the barbed wire,” he said, standing there for several minutes. “And a Christmas tree.”

As he stepped down, another soldier stood up to peer over the edge. 

“Private!” Campbell barked but then hesitated to stop him.

“It’s dark enough for a peek!” the soldier said. “And they’re not shooting.”

He stuck his head above the trench. A few more men joined him. 

_“God rest here Merry Gentlemen, let nothing you dismay!”_ Diana turned at the sudden burst of song. She recognized the voice; it was Charlie, looking at the top of the trench. “ _Remember Christ our Saviour was born on Christmas Day!”_

 _“To save us all from Satan’s pow’r, when we had gone astray,”_ several others joined in. Steve was one of them, merrily wrapping an arm around Charlie’s shoulders. _“Oh tidings of comfort and joy, comfort and joy. Oh tidings of comfort and joy!”_

When they had finished, a burst of applause and cheering came from the German trench. 

“Another!” called an accented voice.

“Oi, it’s your turn!” someone shouted back.

 _“Stille Nacht, heilige nacht,”_ one of the Germans began signing. _“Alles schläft; einsam wacht.”_

“Silent night,” Steve said quietly. There were more men peering over the trench. Charlie joined them. Steve went back for another look.

Diana was entranced. “How long will this go on for?”

“All night,” Napi said, eyes bright. “Into the morning.”


	3. Chapter 3

The carol singing went on well into the night but eventually, with fuller bellies and fewer worries than usual, most of the soldiers slept. Diana was surprised when Steve was one of the first to nod off, though she supposed it made sense. Adrenaline had been keeping him on his feet. 

Sergeant Campbell had noticed it too. Diana thought he took good care of his men—even after Steve had mostly cleaned out Napi’s supplies, he pointed them in the direction of soldiers who needed books or packs of cards or just something to keep their hands busy. He and Charlie had kept Steve, who Diana would admit looked very young and eager between them, close. It was Campbell who did most of the talking, though, keeping Steve and the other men engaged. Charlie didn’t drink quite as much as he professed he would but he was quieter, pensive.

It was Campbell who tucked a blanket around Steve when he finally nodded off.

The morning dawned silent and cold. The carols had faded away but the guns had not recommenced. A few strains of birdsong was all that could be heard. 

The silence was eerie. 

Diana had not slept. Neither had Napi. At some point, Diana did not think she could pinpoint exactly when, even their quiet conversation had stopped. It felt almost blasphemous to disturb the strange peace.

But eventually, the soldiers on both sides began to wake and stir. Still, the guns stayed silent. 

“Should I chuck over my tin from Princess Mary, do you think?” a soldier, who looked far too young to be there, asked with a laugh. 

“If you don’t want your tobacco, I’ll take it,” someone else said.

“I want the tobacco,” the soldier said. “Just would have liked some of those sweets as well.”

“That smuggler might have summat still.”

“Haven’t got any money.”

“Ask the Yank then! He had change to spare last night.”

Campbell appeared, walking down the trench swiftly and telling the men quietly, but urgently, as he went: “Look sharp, lads. The Captain is coming.”

The Captain, Gibson if Diana remembered from last night, appeared a few moments later. The soldiers around them had quickly tucked away anything they purchased from Napi the previous night. 

It was for naught. Gibson zeroed in on Napi immediately and strode over. 

But Napi seemed to be expecting it. He stood and when Gibson jerked a nod at them and followed him into an empty dug out. 

“You’re the smuggler,” Gibson said crisply and without preamble. “The one they call Chief.”

Napi inclined his head. “I go by that name.”

Gibson sniffed. “What sort of arrangement did you have with my predecessor?” 

Napi shrugged. “He was content to ignore me, for the most part.”

“The most part being a bottle of good gin, I presume,” Gibson stated. “I inherited a footlocker full of empty bottles when he was shot and I was promoted.”

Napi said nothing. Gibson did not seem to mind. 

“I am not fond of gin,” Gibson said finally. “But I have not been able to find German tobacco since the Fall.”

Napi withdrew a package from his coat. Gibson took it, sniffed it, and grimaced. 

“Not the best,” he observed. “But it will serve.”

He passed Napi a few coins. Napi raised his eyebrows at that but took it without comment.

“I do not take bribes,” Gibson told him, with a touch of heat. “And I will have no additional alcohol at the front. Whatever merrymaking went on last night, in the future my men will make do with their rum ration. If they wish to find you when we are on leave, I will not object, but I will not have my men drunk on duty, do you understand?” 

“That will make my load lighter. The bottles are heavy to carry,” Napi said, easily, though he added: “I won’t be held responsible for what they carry back with them.” 

Gibson gave a sharp nod and smiled sardonically. “I expect I would find no way to trace any bottles back to you even if I wished to.”

Napi smiled in return but made no answer. Gibson extended his hand. They shook. 

“Are there usually two of you?” Gibson asked, casually, as he straightened his hat. His eyes slid over Diana but did not take her in, not truly, only registered that there was a third person present.

“No,” Napi said. “Thought it was best to bring extra. For Christmas.” 

“Right, well,” Gibson said. He straightened his hat. “Despite my better judgement, I am about to hand you a golden opportunity.”

Napi raised an eyebrow in question but Gibson gave no answer. He turned smartly instead and left the dugout.

“What did he mean by that?” Diana asked.

Napi smiled. “I told you it carried on into the morning, didn’t I?”

They walked back to the largest area of the trench. Gibson was there, surrounded by the men of the Gordon Highlanders, and Steve, who he was lightly reprimanding for not reporting in with him last night.

“—superior officer,” Gibson finished and gave Steve a look. “I informed your squadron this morning that you were alive.”

Steve was standing at attention. He looked embarrassed, if not exactly remorseful. But he did not offer any excuses and he met Gibson’s eyes.

“It seems your superiors spent the night similarly to you, albeit in more comfortable surroundings,” Gibson said, his face set. “So I doubt you’ll face the firing squad. You’re to report back as soon as possible.” 

Steve nodded: “Yes, sir.”

Gibson straightened his hat again. He looked with some trepidation at the rim of the trench. A few of the soldiers were peeking over it. 

“Get down,” he ordered, without heat. 

“One of the Germans just went over the top of their trench, sir,” a soldier said. “He’s waving a white handkerchief. I think it’s an officer!”

Gibson’s jaw clenched. “Well. They’ve beaten us to it then.”

Campbell stepped forward, warily. Charlie was close behind him, looking even more reluctant. 

“If this isn’t all a ruse and they don’t shoot me, I will need a translator,” Gibson said. “Who speaks German?”

“Uh, I do,” Steve offered. Gibson cut him a look. He quickly added: “Sir.”

“Your previous orders are temporarily suspended,” Gibson told him. “If I’m still alive in three steps, you are to follow me to act as a translator, Lieutenant.”

It was an order; Gibson did not wait for a reply. He mounted the ladder that lead to the top of the trench. He did not pause or flinch as he climbed up and over.

After a stunned moment, Steve scrambled after him.

“They’re both mad,” Charlie said. 

“No shots though,” Campbell observed. 

It was true. There was very little noise, save for the distant call of birds.

“Nuts to this,” Charlie said. He steeled himself for a moment then went over the top as well.

Diana would have followed after Steve the moment he first touched the trench ladder if Napi had not put a hand on her arm to stop her. She understood why as she watched the other soldiers follow Charlie. 

Years from now, she would inspire men to follow her across No Man’s Land. Today, they would meet in the middle on their own. 

It was important that it happened, that they did it themselves, even if there had been no trace of that sentiment by the time Diana arrived on the Western Front. 

Napi repositioned his pack as the last soldier who looked willing to leave the safety of the trench stood at the top and stepped, unmolested, into No Man’s Land. “Come on. Charlie is going to end up introducing me to my most important German contact.” 

Diana looked at him in surprise. Napi smiled. “His father owns a brewery and in six months he will be wounded and sent home. He will be my most consistent supplier. This is how we meet.”

He paused. “This will be the first time since the war began that I meet any German soldiers. I have only sold goods to the British and the French so far.”

Diana blinked. “When I first met you, your whole smuggling operation depending on being able to sell the goods of one side to the other.”

“Which was the only thing that allowed me to get people in and out,” Napi said. “Including Steve, several times. And many others, most of whom were fleeing the war or other violence. None of it would have been possible, if not for today.” 

“And they did it themselves,” Diana said, quietly.

“Yes,” Napi shrugged. “Maybe that is why so many moments in the future depend on it, for good or for ill.”

Diana understood what he was saying. It still sat poorly with her. What was the point of her presence if she could not help in any way?

But it was heartening, when they climbed to the top of the trench, looked out and simply saw people. Soldiers from both sides were milling about. None of them looked entirely sure of themselves but they all looked relieved and curious. Some of the Germans clearly spoke English and small groups were beginning to cluster around the ones that did. 

Napi headed for the officers, who stood in the centre of No Man’s Land. Steve had clearly not been needed. One of the German officers, slightly older and very tall, was speaking directly to Captain Gibson. 

Napi was difficult to miss amongst the soldiers. He was even taller than the German officer and wore no uniform. Both his dress and his bearing marked him as someone officially unaffiliated with either side.

The German officer caught sight of him quickly. His distraction made Captain Gibson look over as they approached. 

“Ah, yes, our smuggler,” Gibson said, dryly affable. “I should have guessed you wouldn’t be far behind.” 

“Smuggler?” the German officer repeated, in English, with barely a hint of an accent. He looked at Napi intently. “Do you have tea?”

“Major Hoffman went to school in England, before all this,” Gibson said. “I imagine he would be a rather good customer for you, if you’ve anything left.”

Napi produced a metal tin from inside his bag. He smiled thinly at Gibson. “Good thing I brought extras.”

Gibson smiled just as thinly back. “Quite.”

Hoffman had opened the tin, sniffed it and grinned at Napi before saying to Gibson: “You would not believe the tea rations we receive. They come in little bags of gauze.”

Gibson’s nose wrinkled in disgust. “Ridiculous.”

“We call them tea bombs,” Hoffman said absently. He sniffed the tin again. “I have missed this.”

“I am always well supplied,” Napi told him. It made Hoffman nod and smile again while Gibson frowned. 

Before Gibson could possibly object, Steve trotted back over. He had been dismissed to go translate for the soldiers when it became apparent he wasn’t needed by the other officers. He was smiling and looked quite pleased with himself.

Diana had to force herself not to smile, seeing him like this. They had had so few moments together when some part of Steve had not been wholly focused on his mission. 

It had disappointed her to see so little of that fire in him last night, to know it was only a game to him. But in the light of day, in the midst of soldiers from both sides making fellowship, she understood why Napi mourned the loss of that lightness in him. 

“Lieutenant Trevor,” Gibson greeted. 

“Sir,” Steve replied and, after a beat, nodded to Hoffman too. He returned it. “One of the Germans was a barber before the war. He’s got his kit with him. Sergeant Duncan and Campbell got him to agree to set up shop for the day if they would teach him the English versions of the Christmas carols from last night.”

Gibson raises an eyebrow and exchanged a look with Hoffman. Hoffman grinned and shook his head. “And what else?”

“The carols and a bottle of whisky, sir,” Steve said cheerfully. “But he’ll give a shave and a haircut to anyone who wants one.”

“Before the whisky is drunk, I hope,” Hoffman said.

“That was my understanding, sir,” Steve said. He turned and pointed to a group of men further away. “They are trying to get a football match going but the ground is no good for it. Too many craters.”

“I doubt that will stop anyone for long,” Gibson observed.

“There is a farmer’s field behind our lines,” Hoffman offered but it was quiet and hesitant.

The two officers looked at each other for a moment. Gibson shook his head. Diana found herself exhaling, disappointed, that they had so quickly found something that was too much to ask.

“And, uh, I wondered, sir,” Steve continued, stumbling uncharacteristically. Diana was surprised by how he looked almost bashful suddenly. Still, he squared his shoulders and asked: “I wanted to go take a look at my plane wreckage.” 

There was a sudden tension. Recovering intelligence felt like a sudden, unexpected violation of the day. Hoffman frowned; Gibson downright scowled.

Steve flushed dully. He rubbed the back of his neck, looking embarrassed. “It’s just that. I went to check the time last night and my father’s watch…It’s missing. I think it fell out of my pocket in the crash.”

Napi’s hand had somehow ended up on Diana’s elbow. He squeezed tightly at Steve’s words. It was the only thing that kept them from staggering her. 

But no one paid attention to her as she clasped a hand around her own wrist, feeling the press of Steve’s father’s watch against her palm. 

Instead, the tension released. Gibson and Hoffman looked at each other incredulously.

“It’s likely smashed,” Gibson said. 

“I would still like to check. I don’t have much left of my father’s. Sir.” Steve said, lifting his chin. “But I didn’t want to start rummaging around in there and cause problems.”

Hoffman nodded decisively. “Good luck to you in your searching then.”

Steve grinned, a bright thing that made Diana’s heart both ache and hammer, and trotted off towards the wreckage of his plane. The watch that Steve was searching for felt like an impossibly heavy weight around her wrist. Diana wanted to go after him. It took all her strength to stay where she was.

That and the vice grip Napi had on her arm, which told her there was more here he wanted her to see. 

“Do you know,” Hoffman offered, casually, after a moment. “I wanted to tell him to be careful then?”

“He’s very green,” Gibson said, with that thin smile. “Hasn’t seen the war except from above. I cannot decide whether I want to smack him for his impertinence or scream at him to get away from here as quickly as he can before it rubs off on him.”

“Yes,” Hoffman said. “That is how I feel whenever the new men come up.”

Hoffman considered Gibson for a moment. “How many have you lost?”

Gibson exhaled. “I have been attached to this company since the beginning. I stopped keeping count a long time ago.”

“Before this began, I took great pride in knowing the names of my men and something of their lives, wives and children and such,” Hoffman said. “Recently, I caught myself thinking that it was tedious to learn even their surnames, they die so quickly.”

They both fell silent, watching the soldiers still trying to get a football game going around the shell holes. It was not working. 

“Brass will never allow this again,” Gibson observer quietly. 

“No,” Hoffman agreed. He looked at Gibson curiously. “Will you face a court martial, do you think?”

“Oh, likely not,” Gibson said. “I was not, after all, the first one out of my trench, waving a white flag.”

Gibson sounded a bit sour about that. Hoffman laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. Gibson seemed surprised at the gesture but he did not rebuff it. 

Hoffman nodded in the direction of the downed plane. “Your man is coming back.”

“That was quick,” Gibson observed. “He can’t have actually found the thing.”

But he had. Diana knew it even before Steve presented it to his superior officers triumphantly. 

Diana frowned. It was the same but not. The watch Steve offered up for inspection was a pocket watch, though the face was exactly the same. 

“It’s a bit scratched,” Steve said, with a grin. “But it’s still ticking.”

There were, Diana noticed, from behind Napi’s shoulders, dings and dents in the metal. The glass was miraculously intact.

“That is remarkably lucky,” Gibson said. He sounded suspicious of it, of that amount of luck. Still, he sniffed and offered. “You ought to have it made into a wrist watch.” 

Steve looked confused. “Sir?”

Gibson raised his arm and pulled back his jacket sleeve, showing his. The face of it was obviously very old but the leather strap and casing looked as if it had been added well after the watch was made.

“Get a damn strap for it, Lieutenant,” Gibson told him, pushing down his sleeve. “You’re unlikely to have that kind of luck again.” 

Hoffman sniffed. “That seems, to me, the best way to ruin a very fine watch.”

“About as bad as putting tea in a bag, I would wager,” Gibson said wryly. Hoffman laughed and Gibson smiled a little more genuinely. 

“I’d rather change it a bit than lose it entirely,” Steve declared. He looked at Gibson. “Did you have that done in London?”

“I’ll give you the name of the shop,” Gibson told him. 

“It would perhaps be more effective to avoid crashing your plane in the future,” Hoffman said dryly. He smiled. “But what do I know of flying?”

Steve took it cheerfully, tucking his father’s watch back into his pocket. He smiled, looking amused. “I’ll try both.”

Steve was soon pulled away when the group trying to get the football game going needed a translator. He didn’t return to the small cluster of officers. He seemed to gravitate more towards the enlisted men who, in turn, seemed to like the novelty of him: a pilot and, even more incongruously, an American.

Diana found herself watching him from a distance. Soon after Steve was called away, Napi had reminded her in a hushed whisper that Steve was not the only acquaintance he needed to make that day. The brewer’s son who would become such an important contact to Napi turned out to be so young his face was still pimply. 

“Lied about his age,” Napi told her quietly as they approached. 

Campbell and Charlie welcomed Napi heartily and introduced him to the Germans they were sharing cigarettes with. It turned out Charlie was particularly keen on introducing the brewer’s son to Napi because of the adventure stories he knew were tucked into Napi’s bag. 

The boy looked embarrassed in the face of Charlie’s enthusiasm, confessing, in halting, accented English: “I do not read it very good.”

Napi was unfazed: “I have nothing in German. What about French?”

The boy’s face lit up and Charlie gave him a friendly slap on the back as the exchange was made. Napi, Diana noticed, passed the boy chocolate, and Charlie cigarettes, without payment as the boy began talking excitedly, telling them about his home. He was prompted more by Charlie than Napi but Diana could see the connection being woven between them. 

She stepped away, looking across the short stretch of field to where Steve was sharing a drink from the barber’s new bottle of whisky and laughing in the midst of a cluster of soldiers. Two men were still kicking the football back and forth but it seemed that getting an actual game going had been abandoned. 

It wasn’t, perhaps, the most inconspicuous thing to do but it was hard not to notice that, aside from Napi, everyone was interacting strangely with her, as if they could not see her as she truly was. The disguise they had created for her was passable but not outstanding. It was as if the soldiers who looked at her saw what they wanted to. Or perhaps, what someone else wanted them to. 

Diana did not know if that was Napi’s doing or the doing of whoever had brought her here. 

Frustration rose in her again but she only had a moment to feel it and wish for something that she could _do_ before something in the air changed, like the pressure that rolled in with the darkest storm clouds. She could not say how she knew it but time slowed. Her hand went to the hilt of her sword and goosebumps rose on her arms. 

She turned. A man stood behind her in robes of black and dark, muted red. He looked young, younger than Steve as Diana had first known him, with dark hair and a dark beard. His eyes were brown and piercing and he carried a helm under his arm. Its black obsidian gleamed with glints of silver.

“Well met, daughter of Hippolyta, Queen of the Amazons,” he said. When he spoke, his face was stern as if it had been carved from stone but there was something melancholy about the set of his mouth. “My niece.”

Diana knew who he was at once, though no temples were dedicated to him on Themyscira, nor were there any depictions that she could remember. To Amazons, invoking his name was an ill omen, inviting disaster. 

But, unlike Ares, he did not attempt to cloak himself in the garb of the era or hide who he was in any way. 

Diana did not know if that portended. 

She inclined her head, though her hand never left her sword. Even if she was to battle him, Diana knew better than to disrespect the god of the Underworld.

“Hades,” she said, in greeting. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: both wrist watches for men AND tea bags caught on as a widespread THING during WWI. 
> 
> We know of one example of a soccer game actually being played between German and English soldiers during the Christmas Truce but it was in field behind the English lines. It isn't improbable that men kicked the ball around in other places but the terrain makes it unlikely they could actually play a full game and we don't have any documentation of it actually happening in No Man's Land. 
> 
> Also, I just saw Hadestown and I'm PROBABLY going to write a crossover for the Wondertrev Valentine's Day celebration but this IS NOT that Hades.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy WondTrev Secret Santa frozen2s! I am so sorry this is late. And not finished yet. But it's long?


End file.
